Indwelling
by perrilloux.bf68
Summary: When his adoptive father brings home the Arc of the Covenant, Obed's son discovers the cost of sin, the price of atonement, and the compassion of a God eager to be reunited with his creation. From the Mind of a Dreamer comes the story of Obed-Edom, a modern reimagining of the untold story. [5]
1. Obed: Part One

**Indwelling**

_Obed_

* * *

"I just volunteered," the man shrugged. Closing the door, he swiftly locked it then cautiously stepped away, one tiny step at a time. You weren't supposed to turn your back on it. He remembered that much from they told him. You were only supposed to back away, just one minuscule step at a time. And that wasn't a problem. His apartment guaranteed it. One step, two steps, three steps, four. He obeyed until his shoulders hit the wall on the other side of the hall. Obed grimaced as the light switch dug between his shoulder blades. He shyly smiled while Grendel just glared. He was standing next to his wife.

"You just volunteered?" she growled—well whispered—well growl whispered making her mouth contort into a number of rather humorous looking angles. If he also didn't share in the woman's concern, if he also didn't quite believe what he did either, Obed would have laughed. But he did worry and he did disbelieve. Clumsily, Obed stepped away from the wall. While the light switch only poked him, the holes in Grendel's eyes nearly skewered him alive.

"Obed, one wrong move and you could be killed."

Obed nodded pushing passed her to stalk down the hall. He trotted passed the door to their room (the door next to the closet), and the door to the bathroom (the room across from it). He quietly wiped his brow.

"One wrong move and we could die!"

"I know," Obed answered. He walked pass the children's room, pass the two sets of eyes that stared up at him: one hovered to the right of his wife, the other behind the comfortable nest of her arms. The little girl clapped her hands and instantly reached for him. Her smile was contagious. Obed bit his lip and moved further into the kitchen—into the living room—into the dining room. Three rooms in one were nestled on the end of their small little apartment. The man sighed acutely aware of the footsteps trailing his own.

"What was I supposed to do?" Obed sighed. He slouched into his seat at the head of the dining table. His milk chocolate eyes watched as his wife of 15 years situated the little girl into the high chair on his left. The two year old stuttered his name and Obed once more bit his lip. Smiling back would be the wrong move.

Grendel's' frown deepened as her husband's lips began to quiver. Eventually, she turned towards the hallway as two additional feet sauntered towards the kitchenette. The second child just stared at them. Two accusing eyes sliced passed the tv, the lounge chair, the refrigerator and the queen's dinning chair nestled snuggly on the other side of the table. When a petal from the table's centerpiece suddenly snapped off and floated like lead to the dolly beneath it, Obed was entirely convenience that it was the stare's fault. Quietly, he took his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"We'll be fine!" the man insisted—to her—to him—to himself. "Besides it will only be a few days at the most. King David—"

"King David indeed," Grendel snapped. Slamming down a plate of lamb and chicken, she turned off the burner to the stove and moved the plates to the table. "Wasn't it his idea to move that thing in the first place? Unprepared, uneducated, a man's dead because of that happy little scheme of his. And now, thanks to my love-struck husband, the very thing that killed him is now in our house tucked away in my linen closet like a rotten skeleton. Did you honestly think that—"

"Listen here, woman! That man has been nothing but a God send to this country ever since the day he cut off that giant's head and you know it." Obed countered her angrily, "You were love-struck too until the king himself dropped 'that thing' unto our doorstep."

"YOU dropped that thing onto our doorstep." Grendel sunk a spoon into the mashed potatoes and pointed to the chair at her husband's right. Those eagle hazel eyes zeroed in on the two coffee colored pupils glaring back at her from the hallway. They didn't budge. Obed sighed… again.

He raised a soft hand beckoning the ten year old, the boy who had yet to speak since the day Obed had brought him home. Reluctantly, the child obeyed.

He sat down with his head hung and his hair drifting into his plate, but his eyes were as sharp as daggers. They were eyes that had seen war. They stared at his sister, the little two year old across from him, stared at his plate, glared up at the man at the head of the table. All he did was glare.

"Did you forget?" his wife hollered—well whispered—well hollered whispered as she sat in her seat by the baby. "We have children now. We can't be—"

"I know," Obed snapped. He raised his brows emphasizing the words once more. "We will be fine, Grendel. The Arc of the Covenant is in our closet. The Lord knows we mean Him honor and not harm. As long as nobody touches it and everyone leaves it be, we will be perfectly a ok.

Obed reached out a hand grabbing the little girl's to his left and the boy's to his right. Grudgingly, his wife followed suit. "Now, let's pray and have dinner. It's been a long enough day."

* * *

**The story behind this story. I read this passage one day and thought, "if this isn't a story, I don't what is."**

**1Chr. 13:12-14. 12 David was afraid of God that day and asked, "How can I ever bring the ark of God to me?" 13 He did not take the ark to be with him in the City of David. Instead, he took it to the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite. 14 The ark of God remained with the family of Obed-Edom in his house for three months, and the Lord blessed his household and everything he had.**

**That's pretty much all the Bible says about the incident. No details are really given about what happened when the Arc stayed with Obed and his family. It does mention that Obed eventually ends up working in the Temple, though. That says a lot to me. This story just plays at the idea of what could have happened. There is nothing historically accurate about this narrative and its set in modern day. I'm just playing with an idea. Please do not take offense. - Calla**


	2. George: Part One

**Indwelling**

_George_

* * *

A car bomb killed his mother. The war killed his father. All he and his sister had left was his grandmother. It took her three days to tell him what happened to his mother. It took his mother much longer than that to tell him about his father. Much longer. Now all three of them were gone.

Eating his dinner, the boy of 10 watched his sister sputter and play with the peas on her tray. He pondered the fact that she would never know his mother's face, his father's apart from the pictures stuffed in his sleeve. He would show her one day. Someone had to tell her. He was the only one left who could.

Well almost. His shifty eyes, his untrusting eyes, his knife sharp mildly accusing eyes slanted towards the man on his left, the one who said he'd known his father. Obed picked him up from the orphanage the day after his grandmother had kicked the bucket. He said he also knew his mother, said he helped out a little when his father died from the war, said he knew from the papers that he had been with her the day the bomb went off. It took his grandmother three days to tell him his mother had saved him, that she didn't make it but he did. It took the man twenty seconds, then three hours to bring him home to a new life, a new house and a new family. Except, this wasn't his family. They weren't his parents.

And yet, they took care of him. This he couldn't deny, George.

They had been there a year now and the boy had learned many things about his parents. They were kind and patient though they argued a lot. They were Edomites and Obed was an ex-Israeli soldier in spite his heritage. Grendel was a nurse and had attended to the wounded during the war. Now she was a stay at home mom, him an adviser to the king. They were a happy couple though lonely.

Obed mentioned many times his wife's condition. How she couldn't conceive. How much she—him—them longed for children of their own to spread his family's name, to further his own seed, to fill their home with love and laughter.

"Maybe you are a god send," Grendel told him one night as she put him to bed… well murmured really. It's what they did since they knew he would never answer them—not verbally anyway. "You needed parents and we wanted children. God put us together. And I am certain that He means for us to grow in love." Here, she tilted her head, watched as his hardened eyes stared into her much softer darker pupils. They reminded him of candles and wood burning in a soft fire place, of his mother's home cooking and his father talking quietly in the background. He liked that in spite everything. He liked her eyes.

She must have saw something, or he must have gave something away for instantly, Grendel's smile widened as she kissed him goodnight. "We will get there one day and until then and after then, we will take care of you and protect you as God would have us do. We promise."

Such a promise, the boy thought. And it took one year and one unthoughtful action to break it. Obed brought that… thing home.

It angered his wife. It made Obed himself worried. She hadn't stopped complaining and he hadn't stopped pacing, twitching, nodding along to her chatter in silence and uncertainty. Even the boy could see that he regretted his decision and that regret, that anger only fueled the child's own.

He knew what that thing was. Everyone did. He knew what it was capable. His new mother had said, indicated blatantly, detailed to the exact extent of how dangerous it was and that made him mad—worse fearful.

They had promised to protect them and what do they do? Stepping out of the bathroom, the child glared at the door across from it, inched severely with his back against the wall until he was at least two doors away from its own. He was about to cross the hall to reach for the door knob to his room when he heard his mother's voice suddenly sprint from the common room, the living—dining—kitchen at the end of the hall.

"Young lady, I told you to stop it!"

George turned eyeballing the light flittering into the hallway from the TV. Obed was still working. It was just his mother, his sister and him. He knew what happened.

Grendel grunted as she bent to pick up his sister. "I said 'no,' " she scolded.

The child only sputtered and laughed, at which Grendel exasperatedly sighed. "I told you once, I've told you a hundred times, no going to the closet. It is dangerous."

George shook his head as he entered his bedroom.

Out of everyone, his sister was the only one unfazed by the Arc. On every turn her every step, reach, flutter of an eye was pinpointed on that door. She was obsessed with it. Still this, like his parents, he had learned to shrug off. What did a baby know of its dangers? Laying on his bed, the child put a hand across his eyes. She didn't know the difference, but his parents did. If they knew how dangerous the Arc was, if they promised to keep them safe why would they bring it here? Didn't they care?

* * *

**\- Calla**


	3. Grendel

**Indwelling**

_Grendel_

* * *

She had just placed the baby in the Pack N' Play when she let her mind wander. She just caught the little spitfire running for the closet—again. She had picked her up—again—scolded her, kissed her, put her down again for the sixth time that day, let alone how many plus times since the box arrived. Grendel wiped her brow as she slouched onto the sofa. Her warm chocolate eyes watched as the two year old settled in for a nap.

The TV was running softly flicking its blue light across the coffee table, down the hall where she knew the other child had locked himself in his room. A year and a half and not a sound. A year and a half and no smile, no laughter. Grendel rested her head against a fist as she pondered him, wished for him, spoke out of habit a prayer over his voice and recovery.

"He had begun to soften, Lord. And now since my husband's decision to bring your Arc into this house, it's like all that work has been reversed and erased. What are we to do?"

It had been over a month since its arrival and eventually they adjusted to the addition to their family. Small changes made the watch over the object if not comfortable then most definitely workable. She bought new linens, new towels, new supplies so no one needed to venture to the closet to find them, attempt to reach around it to get them. Nearly everyone avoided that section of the hall all together. Even her husband had gotten to the point that, except for his early morning shower and his evening adventure to his throne before bed, he avoided the area like a plague.

Only the boy had changed, grown colder, stayed in his room more often after school, during the holidays. And the girl? Grendel eyed her.

"I am thankful for them," she prayed and then her thoughts shifted. Her hand absently moved to her stomach.

Her eyes shifted to the hall. Her hand covered her mouth. Her feet followed her thoughts until they stopped just in front of the door with her hand hovering over the knob. It stilled, froze and then dropped sneaking into the front pocket of her jeans. For a moment, Grendel listened for movement at her son's door, at the front door for her husband. When none came, her gaze returned to the closet.

"You know, this is probably the closest a woman has ever gotten to your Arc. They say your presence surrounds it. I wonder if you are hearing me now, if you are watching? You spent a month with our family. You've seen how we've made do with the two you've given us, but sometimes we are at a loss, Obed and I. George hasn't opened up. He refuses to speak. Help us love him anyway, to love both of them. I can see the longing in Obed's eyes. He wants a family so much. Please teach us how to heal him, Lord. Teach us how to—"

A sound startled her, interrupted her prayer. Immediately, she turned. Immediately, she moved towards the living room slightly afraid. She turned the corner… then stopped… and saw… and sighed heavily.

* * *

**\- Calla**


	4. Obed: Part Two

**Indwelling**

_Obed_

* * *

He walked into a mess—a happy mess, one full of much laughter and much sighing—but it was a mess all the same. Coming home from work, Obed put his key through the lock, opened the front door and instantly he started to laugh. His daughter had turned into a ghost and his wife was just as white with disbelief and exasperation.

Knowing the look well, Obed moved into his apartment, closed the door and made a b-line for the little imp. She had successfully invaded their refrigerator finding for herself the pancake batter they had stored there the day before. Pancake batter was everywhere, the floor, the door, her hair, clothes and smile. She was laughing. The little imp was still laughing when he picked her up instantly moving to douse his blue dress shirt with white hand prints the shape of upside strawberries.

Obed kissed her then scolded. "Now little brat, pancakes are for breakfast not dinner." The baby just sputtered and smiled and then promptly kissed him back. Now he was the ghost.

"Someone needs a bath."

Hearing her voice, Obed turned and eyed his wife. She was smiling—well sighing—well sighing and smiling as she moved to grab a wash cloth. She didn't see the light of a bedroom door tip toe down the hall. Obed smiled a little an idea popping. "Do you want to have breakfast?" he asked her. "Why don't you make pancakes?"

His wife tilted her head unaware of the two feet slipping out from between the two walls of a half-empty hallway.

"We could have an upside-down breakfast. George Senior used to have those all the time." Obed eyed his son prompting his wife to pause and look back at him. "Do you want to help, George? I believe pancakes where your father's favorite, yes?"

* * *

"And instantly, he moved," Obed pondered out loud. "He went to you just like that. No sound, no smile, but still he came and cooked with you. No problems. That was more interaction that we've gotten out of him since I don't know when. Unbelievable." Obed eyed his wife who was looking at their mirror, well more accurately, eyeing herself in their mirror.

"You forget I was with you dear. I know what happened." Grendel murmured absently as she stared at her stomach. It was a usual stance, one he had seen many times, one he knew from experience not to speak of or interrupt. He countered her softly.

"You worry more than I do about that boy's condition. I am amazed you aren't as awestruck as I am."

"I am awestruck," she said. Well she… "I also couldn't get how we had so much pancake batter left. We used most of it the other day. Even after we were done eating, it looked like we hadn't touched it all—do I look bigger to you?"

Obed eyed her gently. "Sweetheart," he said. After a moment, his eyes filled with that emotion she despised.

"No really, Obed," she growled, well sputtered, well growled sputtered. Immediately, she fixed her clothing and moved to get into bed. "It's just that I've been gaining weight and I'm late, you know, LATE LATE. Maybe…"

Obed rolled over, turned off the light and held her from behind. He kissed her shoulder quietly.

"I know you don't believe me, but…" she trailed off. In the dark, Grendel bit her lip.

"We could go tomorrow. I'll call Rose and see if she's available."

Grendel sighed, "You don't have to humor me." She muttered. She grumbled. She hoped silently.

"I will go with you. We can get a sitter. It's just two hours. If I can get the whole day off, maybe we could make a day of it. You know, you and me?"

Grendel rolled over and stared at her husband.

"I know what you're thinking," Obed answered.

"I want…"

"I know," he answered. "I know."

* * *

**-Calla**


	5. Lady

**Indwelling**

_Lady_

* * *

At first, she didn't like her, the girl they were leaving her with. Lady made a face. She twisted her nose as she eyed the babysitter's long skinny legs, pink poke-a-dotted sundress, green black and white striped coke glasses, pink string hair and blue-green braces. Lady's mouth contorted slightly as her new mother handed her over to the girl. She was six times her size with freckles that seemed too big, too orange and very daunting. But then, as Lady nestled against her chest, right next to the teenager's neck and the delicate curve of her left ear, the little girl paused. Mid-whimper, her sparking chocolate eyes bedazzled widely the green checkered hoops twirling about her babysitter's splattering of earrings. They looked curious, too curious, dangerously curious. They were so curious that the little lady purposely reached out ignoring the nonsense babbling quietly behind her.

"Our cellphones will be on and our numbers are by the telephone if you forget them. There are extra diapers above the toilet and don't worry about the laundry. There is one load in the dryer downstairs, but it shouldn't be a problem unless Norman needs it. He's our neighbor. Sometimes, he'll knock on the door and complain if we leave it too long. If he does knock, you'll just have to go down and get it because he'll get a little crabby if you don't. You know what I mean?"

"Sweetheart."

"Remember to keep an eye on Lady and George—well, Lady really. George can pretty much take care of himself—"

"Grendel."

"But Lady has been very—"

"Darling. The girl has been here many times before. She knows the deal." Obed quietly interrupted his wife's well-meaning instructions.

"I know, Obed. I'm just reminding her." Grendel yelled, well whispered, well yell-whispered. "I know—"

"AH!" The babysitter squealed as Lady personally tested to see if her hoops were edible. Delighted that they weren't, she also squealed and then purposely pulled again. Again, Rose squealed. Lady did too. Obed winced. They were two sopranos, each terrible, each loud, each able to break glass. Rose smiled through her teeth. "Oh, don't worry Mrs. Obed. Lady, those aren't toys. I remember where everything is. You can trust—OW! You can trust me." Gently, she pulled little fingers away from green and white plastic. Instantly, those chubby fingers tangled in her hair. "She's still as curious as ever I see."

Her babysitter laughed trying to not let her eyes skitter towards the hallway, towards the door, towards the thing hidden quietly away. "Is the—um. Is it?"

"Yes"

"No."

Obed and Grendel exchanged glances. He glared and she gave in.

"Yes," he answered a little more firmly. He didn't quite agree with the idea of allowing the babysitter to work while in their house. Not with the Arc still there, it still waiting, it unprotected and unwatched. Still, this was better than having no one there at all and leaving it completely unattended either. In his mind, it was just better to have it out, explain it and warn the girl—again. He did so very sternly. "Do not touch the door and just leave it alone. You'll be fine. Okay?"

"Of course. I know Mr. Obed, sir." Rose smiled a tad nervously or maybe a tad excitedly. Since she smiled at everything, Obed really couldn't tell.

The man sighed and moved to retrieve his girl from the babysitter's grasp. Again, the child squealed taking a chunk of pink hair with her. Gingerly, Obed apologized. Rose stuttered while she followed his wife towards George's bedroom. He had yet to leave it. Obed half listened to her good-byes and silent instructions as he put Lady in her play crate. He kissed her, smiled and waved.

Excited, she waved back watching intently as he left, as her mother hesitantly followed, as the door closed and the stranger settled herself in front of the TV.

Lady yawned. She took a nap.

* * *

A knock at the door started her awake. Lady blinked. She heard murmuring and footsteps, a man's grunt and a sudden slam of the door. Getting to her feet, Lady looked around the living room surprised to see nothing about her, no one but the TV, the sofa, the dining room table and the kitchen. Unsure, she whimpered.

When nothing happened, she did it again a little louder.

And a little louder.

And a little louder until suddenly she heard footsteps come down the hall. Lady turned when they stopped and then she squealed. Her cries quickly turned into bubbling laughter as her eyes caught those of her brother.

Hesitantly, George stared at her and then he moved to pick her up. A slight smile formed across his lips, a smile only she was allowed to see. Happily, Lady reached out to touch it. His lips tilted higher. His eyes sparkled a little more. She could see it. She loved it.

"Don't worry," George whispered. "Old grouch Norman came about the laundry. Rose will be back soon. You'll see." Nuzzling her short hair, her brother put her on the ground and moved back down the hallway. "I'll be in the bathroom, okay?" He yelled out to her. "Stay put!"

A door opened.

A door closed.

And then she was alone. Again. But happy.

Chocolate eyes turned and watched the tv flicker before her. Quickly bored with it, however, she turned to eye the kitchen and then the hallway. She wondered where her brother went.

Curious, the girl pulled herself to her feet. Using the coffee table, she paused a little as she wobbled. But once steady, she smiled. She let go of it. She toddled to her bottle resting on its side in front of their little entertainment center. In its flickering light, she picked it up and took a drink. She drank as she wobbled towards the hallway.

She stopped at the entrance and seeing the corridor slightly dark from the lack of light she hesitated. She tried to look back at the kitchen, but then she teetered. She paused. She eyed the tv and her crate. She eyed the front door, and then she thought of her brother and bravely stepped forward. She followed him. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four.

Halfway to the bathroom, another sight distracted her from her travels, a sight that she'd been staring at for a month and a day. Lady tilted her head. She took a drink and moved towards it until she stood before the door, the one at the end of the hallway. She put down her bottle.

Clapping her hands, Lady reached for the door knob knowing how to twist it, how to tip toe to pull it little by little until finally without hindrance it opened. Her chocolate eyes laughed as they landed on gold and wood. The strange gigantic box sparkled like laughter from the darkness of the closet. The sparkle drowned out the voice of her brother. He warned her not to come into the bathroom. The sparkle beckoned her to follow. Instead of bothering her brother, Lady stepped forward. Instead of harkening to his voice, she reached fat chubby fingers to touch the strangely rippled edge, the strangely chiseled wings of the beings bowed on top. The box glittered.

Her bottle rolled away as her body fell to the floor.

The bottle rolled away knocking gently against the bathroom's door.

It stopped there.

It died there.

* * *

**\- Calla**


End file.
